


Meant to be shared

by chaoticlivi



Series: After the wall, against the pillar [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Other, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Premature Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticlivi/pseuds/chaoticlivi
Summary: It appears that Crowley enjoyed being pushed against the bookshop pillar by Aziraphale.





	Meant to be shared

**Author's Note:**

> Marked as "M/M" and "Other" because I don't want to spam all the tags, but those seem like the two interpretations that will be most commonly applied here. Beta'd by Lex, argentconflagration, again. Thank you Lex!
> 
> Now a podfic! Download [here on Kiwi6](http://kiwi6.com/file/kpt01wphgq), [here on Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BfJ0TeBWAFVft1XAy4qU12zS1LruoVe9/view?usp=sharing), [stream on tumblr](https://ineffable-endearments.tumblr.com/post/190600926629/i-podficced-meant-to-be-shared-watch-out-its), or listen in the player at the top of the fic!

It’s dark outside, and cozily-lit in the bookshop, and Aziraphale is being showered in physical affection by his favorite person.

Well. He hadn’t been sure if it was a risk worth taking, bringing up the incident with the wall in the convent again - in an effort to be _ seductive, _ no less. But Crowley had indeed been on the same page as Aziraphale. It had taken a while to work up the nerve in the back room, but in the end it all went _ exceptionally _well.

After Aziraphale gets his grin under control - no easy feat, he has to admit, with Crowley planting a lot of cheeky kisses all over his face - he presses Crowley against the shop’s central pillar, more forcefully this time, now that he knows for sure these kinds of attentions are wanted.

Aziraphale kisses Crowley’s neck, that serpentine throat he’s admired for millennia. Crowley makes a noise that Aziraphale has never heard from him before, a moan that goes straight to the soul. He wants to get Crowley to do it again. Perhaps if he adds some tongue…?

“Jussst like a couple of humans, we are,” Crowley gasps with his throat bared, one hand on Aziraphale’s back, the other hand in Aziraphale’s hair.

“They’ve had a few good ideas,” Aziraphale murmurs against Crowley’s skin, “don’t you think?”

“Nggghhhh.” Crowley rolls his hips into Aziraphale once, and then immediately stops. But not before Aziraphale feels a certain warm hardness.

“You’ve--” Aziraphale hesitates, glancing downward. The default state of angels and demons is sexless, but Crowley’s made the effort to manifest a cock anyway. And at the moment, Crowley looks mortified.

“I sort of got in the habit of keeping one in this form,” he says. “Y-you don’t…?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t say that. Would it bother you if I, ah, joined you...?”

“Not at all. Not even remotely.”

Aziraphale’s prick comes into existence mid-arousal, and this time, it’s he who presses into Crowley, pushing his hips slowly inward and outward with tender care once, twice, thrice. Crowley catches Aziraphale’s lips again, pulls him close, meets his hips, and oh...they’re lined up now, cock-against-cock. Aziraphale craves more, craves passionate frottage against this warm, secret part of Crowley.

It’s all a bit much, their most private parts hard and rubbing together through fabric as Crowley’s deft tongue curves around Aziraphale’s. Here in his home, surrounded by the person who made it that way, Aziraphale is complete. At once, six thousand years of affection rush through his soul.

Crowley puts his hands on Aziraphale’s rear to press the two of them even closer together and makes that _delicious_ moaning sound again.

In the whispering shuffle of their clothes is the echo of the most honest conversation Aziraphale ever had in Eden. The warm slide of Crowley's kiss reminds him of the sweets they tried in Paris, the powdered sugar that stuck to their lips. The heat of Crowley’s embrace fills Aziraphale’s heart and flows downward; electricity like the fizzing of champagne at the Ritz, like their eyes making contact over candlelight at midnight, ignites Aziraphale’s every nerve.

It’s a relief. It’s a thirst quenched. It’s an eternal flame stoked to a towering blaze of glory.

It’s all a bit much for his corporation, and Aziraphale _ throbs._

“Oh,” he says faintly, seeing stars. He can’t suppress a full-body shudder, spilling seed into his pants.

“Angel?” Crowley stops rolling his hips, pulls back to study Aziraphale’s face. There are lines of concern between his eyebrows.

Aziraphale offers a sheepish look. “Got a little overwhelmed.”

Crowley glances down, then back up at Aziraphale’s face, then back down. “Y-you…?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Fuck,” Crowley breathes, beaming at Aziraphale. “You’re really that excited.” A teasing mischief swims in those fire-golden eyes, the whites of them long since banished to a less enraptured moment, but there’s something else, too, a covetous adoration Aziraphale never believed he’d be permitted in a million years.

It’s all a bit much, and Aziraphale feels tears pricking at his eyes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I really am.”

“No! Nono,” Crowley says, a hand on each of Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m not laughing at—“

“I’m not _ embarrassed,_” Aziraphale admonishes with a sniffle. “Just feeling a great deal.”

Crowley relaxes, takes both of Aziraphale’s hands in his. “Alright, alright. We have forever. Come join me, hmm?” And Crowley leads Aziraphale to the comfortable old couch. They settle onto the worn cushion, Crowley with his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale has discreetly miracled away the mess in his pants. Not at all ready to be done with their cavorting, he turns back to Crowley and nuzzles their noses together. Crowley is watchful and flushed, his gaze lingering on Aziraphale’s, until Aziraphale gives him an encouraging smile and he joins in. Crowley doesn’t seem bothered that there are still tears on Aziraphale’s cheeks - oh, in fact, he kisses them. Good. They’re tears of joy, meant to be shared.


End file.
